


Mortis

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Captivity, Christianity, Exorcisms, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-01 14:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20259796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: (He and Father Snoke arrive at a rundown house to come to the aid of a fallen child.)





	1. Chapter 1

Pax Christi. Praise be to Christ.

It is a vague town in the desert, with a population of about 500 or so individuals spread over a vast tract of land. I had no bearings and no luck with the map, but Father Snoke seemed to know exactly where to go. We came to a very large and ugly scrapyard, where cars rusted and sagged beneath the white eye of the sun.

We were met by Mr. Plutt, a large and coarse man who eyed us with some trepidation. However, once introductions were made, he opened up more easily to Father Snoke. It was three in the afternoon, and the girl was out with her friends after school. The Father is better with social situations than I; while he warned Mr. Plutt of the process of the rite, I surveyed the rest of the house. 

Poverty was evident, and the sharp scent of alcohol and something fungal permeated the air in every room. I saw no family pictures. In her room, I found a simple stained mattress with a blanket thrown over it, a school journal, and a shoe box of curious artifacts: small bones, a little radio, the skin of a rattlesnake. She kept all sorts of small mechanisms, the room more suited to that of a boy. 

The basement was large and pleasantly cool, buried beneath the surface of the hardpan desert. I returned upstairs to propose this place as the stage, and while at first Mr. Plutt vehemently resisted, we found his initial proposal — the outdoor ‘garage’ — to be intolerable for the long-term, should that be the case. I myself moved Mr. Plutt’s four-post bed down to the basement, before returning to the living room to await her return home.

She arrived at four. In the absence of photographs, I should like to draw her at some point. She was a head smaller than I, and dressed in loose, shapeless clothes that hung off her frame. She passed through the front door, those strange green eyes taking in Mr. Plutt, Father Snoke, and then myself. Just as she turned, I lunged and we crashed down onto the rotten stairs outside. A shrill noise tore out of her throat and she convulsed, becoming a thing of pure adrenaline while my hand tried to find her mouth. She managed to elbow me hard in the chin before I could press the rag over her nose and mouth, and in a few minutes the light dimmed in her eyes and she went limp beneath me. 

_What a little thing she is_. Her father is the size of a steer, yet the girl is nearly skin and bones. She must be both physically and spiritually drained by the nature of her affliction; either that or she is naturally bird-boned. I will have to delay my drawing session, because the little one is slowly coming awake now. I should like to talk to her, before the rite begins.


	2. Thursday - She Wakes

The peace of God.

Glory to Christ.

I am sitting in the basement of House Plutt. I have cleared off a substantial wooden work bench and a little metal stool upon which to sit, the legs of which scrape against the floor when I even entertain the idea of shifting my behind. My back hurts.

For the moment, we have worked out a temporary sleeping arrangement: Father Snoke will have the girl’s old mattress, Mr. Plutt will have his reclining chair in the living room, and I will make do with our emergency sleeping bag. It is not so bad; there are not so many rat droppings as there were in Oregon. However, Mr. Plutt greatly bemoaned the loss of his bed, and I worry the effect of this house’s air quality on the Father’s health. I remember seeing a motel on our way to this place, although it is an hour away. Just perhaps, I can take over the rite by myself incase the Father needs respite.

She is resting now, the poor thing. When she first woke, five hours ago, she was so _very_ distraught. She screamed herself hoarse and pulled hard at her bonds with the fear of a wild animal. Normally we prefer a stage away from the house to prevent the harsher aspects of the rite from disturbing the family; Mr. Plutt made his way downstairs to scream obscenities at her. He was red in the face; he demanded we ‘shut her up’ or he’d do it for us. Granted, it was two in the morning.

The Father and I managed to talk her down. She too had gone red in the face, her eyes swollen shut with tears. Of the three voices in the room, perhaps because I was the youngest, she turned to me. I asked her what her name was, and she chirped out, _mRey_. I then introduced myself and Father Snoke. 

I asked her if she were thirsty; when I pressed the cup to her pink lips, she took a few careful sips, in between hiccups that shook her entire frame. So enchanted was I that I wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with my very hand, wholly ignorant of the presence of the Father until he cleared his throat. To regain what little composure I had left, I retreated to the far corner of the room.

When Father Snoke looked upon her, _he_ did not see the girl. He made it clear enough, addressing only the _thing_ inside of her. Rey kept turning to me, confusion apparent. At last, she croaked, “What? What the _f---_ are you talking about?” in a soft, low voice.

What we do, will never be approved by the Vatican. You must remember this, Benjamin.

Father Snoke sighed, and his lips curled into a terrible smile. At once he walked towards her and climbed _onto_ the bed, straddling her. At once, something else took ahold of the girl, for she froze still, her eyes rolling in their sockets. He placed his hands upon her and she began to shriek. The Father wrapped his hand around her throat and made invocations, the words of which are now lost to me because of her voice. My God what a _sound_. The din summoned only her father again, who came at once wielding a tire iron.

We were forced to halt.

.

The girl stirs. I will end this entry here, before we begin again.


	3. Chapter 3

It is Friday today. The girl has missed a _second_ day of school. Normally the parents would make a call to the front office to excuse any absence, but when we suggested as such to Mr. Plutt, he only gazed upon us with inebriated contempt, before walking out into the desert.

For the purposes of relieving the Father, I forced myself to remain in the basement. As of yet, nothing has shown itself. She cries_ I don’t know, I am Rey, Please let me go_. To force the issue, Father Snoke had chosen to deprive her of food and water for the entire day. I’m afraid I have not learned very much today; in my mind I knew the reason of our actions, but my heart could not accept them. Abruptly I left the basement, in the middle of interrogation, the moment when the poor creature burst into tears. I wandered aimlessly outside and around the house, and when I returned Father Snoke was already in the living room, having finished. He could hardly stand to look at me, so great was his disappointment. 

There is not enough food for the four of us in the fridge; tomorrow, he suggested that I must go grocery shopping. We are down to two frozen dinners and a six pack of beer. I should also find bottled water; the water from the taps does not taste good. 

When Father Snoke retired for the evening, I made my way down to the basement. Now there is the stench and heat of human bodies in this place. So far she has deteriorated from the lovely child that I met on Wednesday, but in this moment her eyes were clear. She gazed at me for a moment, evaluating me I think, when at last she asked, “Where did you go?”

I could only give a nebulous answer: around the house. She seemed satisfied by my answer, before asking me, fretfully, “Is he coming back?”

Did she mean the Father or Mr. Plutt? Father Snoke needed his rest, and Mr. Plutt was still out of the house and unaccounted for. “Are you leaving, too?” she asked me. When I shook my head, I could’ve sworn she . 

We talked for an amount of time, myself and Rey. I did my best not to give too many personal details, though the juvenile heart inside of me longed to complain about my own layabout father. She asked about the priesthood, what were the strangest things I’d ever seen, how I chose my profession, so I mentioned the possession of my own Uncle. In return, she told me about the little school she goes to, and the two friends she made: Finn, and Rose. Finn is black, and he lives with his Aunt at a little shop an hour aways; when I mentioned my plans for the weekend, she grew fretful, but I promised I would return home soon. After that, she let me bathe her, although I think the poor thing was more interested in lapping at the water from the towel than the process of being cleaned. This I believe I ignored out of guilt, for earlier when she asked for some water or a snack, I felt I had been too cold.

Strange; truly this day is full in my memory, yet it barely fills a page in this diary. I will use the space at the bottom to make myself a grocery list. For now I will play it safe, and assume that I need to prepare meals for the Father's benefit. Hm... In Oregon, the mother cooked meals for us, but Mr. Plutt feels no such obligation. I wonder if I must cook for him as well. I still need to draw her at some point.

_For tomorrow: _

_Bottled Water _

_Frozen Dinners worth of a week _

_Cooking Oil_

_ A dozen eggs _

_Aspirin_

_ Milk _

_Weetabix _

_Tampons (Pink box with a lady on it, she tells me)_


	4. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: MC has gross thoughts

I am feeling very disgusting today.

This morning I woke up from a terrible dream. I fought against my own body, writhing on the floor and scraping my limbs against concrete. I could not think nor breathe, knowing only that there existed a great hunger that I could never satiate. Apparently, I had woken up poor Rey with my animal bleating and moaning, and in the dark she asked me with a touch of concern if I were alright. At last I came to myself. Turning on the desk light, I lied to her, and in this state I forgot the embargo on water, and gave her a sip from the tap. I plainly forgot the reason for my being up, yet it came to me when I saw her mouth on the cup.

I had dreamed about Rey. One vision impressed itself upon my eyelids, and so great was its effect upon me that I threw water into the poor girl’s face! I limped up the stairs, slid past Mr. Plutt, and locked myself in the bathroom to deal with the issue at hand. What an absolutely disgusting morning. I can only hope that my nightshirt hid it from her eyes. 

By the time I had showered and dressed, Father Snoke was awake. I made a very pathetic breakfast of toasted fish nuggets and tea, before setting off on my journey in the car. Plutt gave me the location of the store on the map.

The ride in the car was miserable as well; the radio had died, and alone with my thoughts on that long and winding road, my mind could not stop returning to that dream. Why her? She is pretty to look at, and conversation with her is pleasant, but I know she is a child and she is vulnerable now. _My hands on that wheel I imagined grasping the crown of her head and defiling her sweet mouth, my hands on this journal and this pencil and I am playing with her small breasts. She is right behind me feigning sleep, while Father Snoke watches the nightly news upstairs beside her father._

I saw ‘Finn’, and his Aunt Maz Kanata in their little shop. We greeted each other and they asked me ‘Where are you heading to, Father?’ They saw the carton of eggs, the loaf of bread, the milk, the grits and antacids for the Father’s digestion, and the box of tampons, and I nearly turned to the boy and said that _I am returning home to Rey where she lies in the basement tied to a four-post bed awaiting my return_. Instead I bleated out Nebraska and then fled the store. Only forty-five minutes later did I realize I forgot the bottled water.

At last, when I returned home with all of our victuals, the sun had hidden itself beneath the western edge of the earth. Father had retired to the girl’s room and Mr. Plutt to the living room, so I placed all of the supplies into the kitchen, before at last returning downstairs. Truth be told, I did not wish to see her at all, but my place of rest is beside hers.

The poor thing was frightened, her exposed skin swathed in blotches of red beneath the naked lightbulb. She cried my name the moment she recognized my shape on the stairwell. Then she begged me to please let her go, she wouldn’t tell anyone, she would run away and never return and that Plutt would like that. It was, it is my duty to clean her and comfort her during the rites, but I could not bring myself to look at her let alone entertain the thought of touching her. I willed myself to shut out her voice, because I knew that I would hear it in my dreams. 

.

Confessing these things onto paper has allowed me to separate myself from my fears. Just now I have approached her enough to see the half-moon scars embedded into the palm of her hand. When she sleeps, she resembles a lost and weary child, not the whore that I conjured in my unconscious mind. I don’t wish to disturb her rest, but I will clean her tomorrow morning, and perhaps Father Snoke may allow her some scrambled eggs. 

Myself and the Father have chosen a very lonely path in the service to mankind. I will never have a wife nor a child, but the longing remains. The mere thought of Rey has become the vessel for these desires. I do not desire the child herself; I cannot desire her. So long as I remember this, I am strong. 


End file.
